Quintessentialism

I've been traveling for work over the last six days, the last 48 hours of which have been spent under the scrim of a medicated-but-still-throbbing head cold. 

I really don't understand why I'm sick. 

I mean, it's not like I went sailing in a weekend-long rainstorm, stayed up until 12:30 on Sunday night baking cupcakes, kissed half of my coworkers on the cheek on Monday while serving said cupcakes, celebrated into the wee hours of that night with a fortifying mix of Kahlua, Stolichnaya and milk, and then flew to Washington DC for a lot of jetlag and three long days of meetings. 

What could possibly be unhealthy about that?! 

When I say we went sailing in a weekend-long rainstorm, I'm only exaggerating a little bit. 

It's hard to tell from the photos that we are completely soaked, but trust me: after eight hours in the driving rain, our waterproof clothing was anything but. 

It was at this point that our sailing teacher took pity on us and fed us tea and stroopwafels, a classic Dutch dessert made up of two thin, buttery waffle-like wafers held together with a sticky, caramel-like filling. 

Stroopwafels are certainly the country's culinary highlight.  

Some people might even argue that they're the Netherlands' greatest contribution to humanity.   

Either way, it felt like a quintessential Dutch experience to shiver from dampness while horking down a pair of stroopwafels with Armageddon looming on the horizon.

The Dude Abides

Today is my birthday, so technically, I'm taking the week off from Peanut Cheese.

But I think it's worth mentioning that we had some friends over tonight for a White Russian-fueled homage to one of my favorite movies of all time: The Big Lebowski. 

(Fans of the Coen Brothers may be amused to hear that the last time I mentioned this movie to my sister, she rolled her eyes and said, "Ugh! A bowling movie!" — which is a lot like complaining about Fargo being a police procedural.)  

The highlight of the evening — and possibly of the year — was when we ran out of milk for the aforementioned drinks.  

John had his shoes and jacket on and was searching for his bicycle lights when I looked around the room and saw eight people dressed in bathrobes (I wasn't joking when I said it was an homage) and asked "Why don't we all go?" 

Everyone looked around and shrugged and picked up their drinks and said, "Okay."  

I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that the Albert Heijn on Dalseweg in Nijmegen has never before been subjected to a posse of 8 bathrobe-clad physicist-types at 9:30 on a Monday night.

I'm not sure they really understood how awesome it was.   

The Half-Year Report

I try to maintain a healthy distance between my job and Peanut Cheese, as the former is what funds our weekend junkets and the latter is rife with possibilities for getting fired.   

But I do have a job at a bank in the Netherlands. 

As I've mentioned, it's at a sustainable bank, which means we try to use money as a force for doing good in the world.

We even have a company motto to that effect, which someone recites (out loud) at the end of our Monday morning all-hands meeting.

Motto notwithstanding, it is very much a bank, which means that I've learned more in the last 18 months about the banking industry than I ever thought possible.

But in addition to learning terms like "basis points" and "liquidity curves", I've come to appreciate one of the finer arts of the banking industry: the half-year report.

A lively compilation of results from the first two quarters of the year, in which one seeks to assure shareholders that we haven't absconded with their money to Suriname.

Though on most days, that is sorely tempting.

Inspired by this riveting exercise from my work, I present the first and probably only half-year report for Peanut Cheese.

In the interest of transparency, I will admit that the flat tire count and the beer bottle value are both wildly exaggerated.  

Though it feels like we've had 11 flat tires in the last 6 months and I wish that the giant pile of beer bottles in the basement would net us €34 in deposit money.

Everything else in this report has been determined by auditors to be the honest-to-god truth.

Key Figures (January 1, 2011 to June 30, 2011)
Primary travel indicators
Number of countries visited:	14
Nautical miles sailed:	217
Miles logged by bicycle:	1,395
Hours logged by train:	223
Adverse conditions
Total days with precipitation:	113
Number of flat tires:	11
Average number of incorrectly conjugated verbs per sentence:	0.8
Assets
Current household bicycle-to-person ratio:	2:1
Value of unclaimed deposits from beer bottles in basement:	€34
Extracurricular activities
Djembe performances given:	4
Danish crime thriller series binged upon:	1
Limpets wiggled while on vacation:	3